


Être, c'est aimer!

by mon_dieu



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo e Giulietta - Ama e Cambia il Mondo, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Immortality, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Tybalt, Kinda, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Rating May Change, This will not be Historically Correct™, Unrequited Crush, Witch Curses, immortal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mon_dieu/pseuds/mon_dieu
Summary: “Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?” - Bram Stoker, Dracula.Tybalt had already led an unusually long life by the time he set foot in Verona. He had been cursed with immortality, and turned jaded in his repose. When he enters Verona pretending to be a lost son of The House of Capulet, he meets someone who changes his outlook on life.





	1. Prologue; A Most Regrettable Fate

 

Tybalt had already lived an unusually long life by the time he first set foot in Verona. After a witch forced a curse upon him a couple of centuries earlier, he had found himself immortal. That’s what you get for irritating the wrong witch, he supposed. Tybalt had approached the witch with a desire for monetary gain. She granted his wish, but was soon disappointed with what Tybalt became. He became cruel and abused his power over those he deemed lesser than himself. He refused to pay the price for the turmoil he had caused, and the witch decided she needed to humble him. To humble him she fashioned a spell to force him to see the consequences of his actions. To learn humility through pain.

The curse was for him to outlive everyone he loved, and to live long enough to see the world reborn.  The pain and the loss of seeing his friends and family age and die still burned inside of him, but he soothed it by hiding it away, deep in his heart .

 

He could still die, if murdered, he discovered after a century. Thus, he need be careful with whom he surrounded himself with. His body could withstand more pain and wounds than your average mortal, but it was possible. He had a deep scar still present on his lower torso to prove it. A thief he encountered on the road had stabbed him for better access to the purse of coins he carried on his person. If he had not patched himself up, he would have gotten what he wished when he saw the love of his life die in his arms. He had concluded that his death would come easier if given to him by someone who  truly  hated him. And genuine hate, like genuine love, was hard to come by.

 

As any other immortal he travelled and moved around a lot. He might as well, it’s not as if he didn’t have time at his disposal. He usually didn’t stay in one place too long, as he had started to fear attachment to mortals. Why should he get attached to someone who would disappear in what felt like a blink of an eye? It seemed like unnecessary pain, which was not an activity he liked to partake in.

He went from city to city, sharing his bed with whomever was willing. He had become detached and emotionless. He played around with other people’s emotions  simply  because he could. He took note of his own cruelty, but couldn’t bother to care. At some point his only enjoyment of people came from watching them suffer. He was living, but hadn’t felt  truly  alive since he locked away his heart to protect it. The years passed by, and his hedonistic lifestyle no longer offered even a spark of enjoyment.

 

He decided that he couldn’t be around mortals that lived ordinary lives with ordinary issues. He needed to find a place filled with extravagant people that could bring joy to his soul again.  And where would an immortal go but the centre of chaos itself, the place where vendetta was the natural order ? Tybalt decided to leave for Verona and make it his new home.  


	2. A Stranger Becomes a Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tybalt had first realized he had become immortal, he had wished for oblivion. He had wished for the chance to join his loved ones in the grave. Over time his wishes changed. Now he wished to see the world fall, because what had the world ever done for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m imagining the characters in the style of the original 2001 French cast, except with John Eyzen as Mercutio instead. Feel free to imagine whichever interpretation of the characters you prefer, but know they are the ones I am thinking of.

When Tybalt had first realized he had become immortal, he had wished for oblivion. He had wished for the chance to join his loved ones in the grave. Over time his wishes changed. Now he wished to see the world fall, because what had the world ever done for him?

  
Tybalt travelled to the commune of Verona sometime in the 14th century. The city state was infamous for the blood feud between the city’s two most important families. The House of Montague and the House of Capulet. Tybalt had held a fascination with the rival houses for some time, found out that the House of Capulet had a lost son. The brother of the family’s matriarch, Lady Capulet, once had a child born out of wedlock that none of them had ever met. When said brother died a gruesome death at the hands of a Montague, the rest of the family lost hope they ever would.

This was too good of an opportunity to pass by, Tybalt decided. He decided to use his powers of persuasion to convince the famed Lady Capulet that he was her lost nephew. He received word that there would be a funeral held at a chapel in Verona, and decided it was his moment to strike. Of course, it would be strange if the man's only son failed to show up for his father's funeral.

 

He shaved his face and put on his finest mourning outfit. (After outliving a significant amount of people, he had established quite the collection.) He needed to look young enough so that he would fit his supposed age, so the beardless face was essential. He wore a pair of black hose, with a pair of his best leather boots. He wore a black doublet with red and gold details over a loose red shirt. Over it he had draped a dark cape to shelter him from the glum weather outside.1 

He entered the chapel right after the sermon for the deceased Capulet. The heads of both Lord and Lady Capulet turned as they noticed him in aisle. Lord Capulet looked confused. Lady Capulet’s face was hid by a veil, but she was not one to let her feelings go unknown.

 

“Who are you, Stranger, to intrude at this private funeral? Have you come to mock our grief?” She called out to him. Even with her face concealed, he could imagine the pain on her face.

 “My name is Tybalt Capulet, and I believe I should not be considered an intruder as this funeral is for my father. I have come to grieve with you. We have all lost someone dear to us.” He declared to the room of grieving Capulets. He could only pray that his supposed father had never mentioned his son’s name during his visits to his family.

 

“A Capulet you say? Why have you never sought us out before? My brother mentioned he had a son, but there must have been some reason why he never brought you on a visit to Verona. Why have you been hiding out in Mantua all this time, if you are who you claim to be?” Lady Capulet questioned him as she walked closer.

Now, if Tybalt was a better, more virtuous man, he would feel bad preying on a grieving family in this fashion. Alas, he was not, and feigned tears as he gave his explanation.

“Lady Capulet, my father forbade me to travel to Verona to meet you. My mother had me out of wedlock, and he was afraid to tarnish our family’s name. I hoped, after my father’s death by the hand of that Montague scum, that this situation might change,” he wiped a tear from his eye, solemnly looking into the distance. “My mother died last spring, and now I have no family left. I travelled here to see if I could find a new family in the House of Capulet, or if I will forever remain an outcast.”

 

All the members of the House of Capulet still present in the church rose from their seats. They looked at Lady Capulet for the final judgement. Tybalt had heard that the man he claimed to be his father was rather righteous. He cared a great deal about upholding the proud name of Capulet and was not one to drag the it through the mud. If those rumours had been true, his story might have a few more legs to stand on. If not, he would probably pass off as a madman that interrupted a private funeral. Lady Capulet lifted her veil, and he saw tears filling her eyes.

“You are not lying to me, are you? You are my brother’s son. He had so many secrets. He hid so many parts of himself from us in fear of tarnishing the Capulet reputation. He never seemed to realise that we only wanted to know _him_ , secrets and all. Although I suppose we all have secrets of our own.” She looked down at the floor. It was clear that Lady Caplet was feeling guilty over something. That she was familiar with keeping secrets that could wreak havoc should they ever see the light of day.

“You are not a secret that deserves to be hid, Tybalt. Come forth, so you can say goodbye to your father with the rest of your family.” She reaches out a hand for him to take. It was akin to a peace offering, to make up for not feeling welcomed before. He took her hand, and together they walked down the church aisle to say goodbye to the coffin placed at the front.2

 

 ══════════════════

 

After the funeral ended, he introduced himself to the rest of the family at the wake, back at the Capulet mansion. Most of it consisted of trying to remember names, bowing and shaking hands. The Capulets seemed to appreciate having something other than their dead kinsman to focus on.

 

He felt a tug at his cape and he looked down. There he saw a young girl, who could not be older than nine years of age. She had long, blonde hair, round eyes that looked at him with an innocent wonder, and an innocent air about her. The Capulet family’s nurse walked over once she noticed the little girl staring at him. She crouched down, so that she could talk to her directly.

“Juliet, meet your cousin Tybalt. He will be moving in with us, because he wants to be closer to his family,” She stood up, facing Tybalt this time. “Juliet is a little shy, she’s rarely around strangers.” After considering her words, she made an attempt to retract them. “Not that you are a stranger, you are just a new person in her life-”

Tybalt noticed she was about to start rambling, and realized he had no energy for that kind of nonsense. As the Nurse was talking, Juliet had moved to hide behind her leg.

 

“That’s alright Nurse. For what is a stranger but a friend one has yet to become acquainted with?” The Nurse looked relieved, as he did not appear to take offense at the statement. Tybalt sat down so the heels of his leather-clad feet lifted off the floor. “Hello Juliet, it’s wonderful to make your acquaintance. My name is Tybalt, and I hope you will not continue being shy around me in the future.”

Then he stood up, so he could bow to the young Capulet. He knew well enough not to dismiss children, as they could spot a liar from a mile’s distance. Juliet moved forward from Nurse’s leg to look at him properly.

 

“Hello, pleased to meet you cousin,” She curtsied, lifting her skirt as she made a little bow. “Mother told me that was how I was supposed to greet you.” Her voice was a little nervous, but he supposed that wasn’t an odd thing. He was a stranger posing as her long, lost cousin, and he felt she could sense that. He could only pray she would forget this suspicion as she grew up.

Juliet was adorable and seemed far too innocent for a child growing up in Verona. This city’s blood feud marred the city’s reputation. This made Tybalt wonder what would happen to a less sheltered child raised in this environment. As if sent by God to answer his question, there was a knock at the door.

 

══════════════════

 

After a servant had opened the door, Lady Capulet was called. It seemed as if Lady Capulet was the one in charge, and her husband was merely a shadow that had no real presence. His curiosity taking over, he walked closer to the door to see who was on the other side.

There stood a young boy, perhaps a year or two older than Juliet, with a curly mop of hair that reached his shoulders. The boy had a mischievous air about him, and something told Tybalt that he did not mean good news.

 

“Young della Scala, what could _possibly_ be important enough for you to grace us with your presence? It's rare to see you doing anything else than fraternising the children of murderers _._ Is your uncle trying to force you to act as a part of the neutral role your family claims to perform?” Lady Capulet’s tone was very accusatory. At least considering she was talking to a child that was about her daughter's age, Tybalt noted.

“In part, although I dislike how you talk about my friends, Madam.” The boy answered back, without missing a beat. He had a sharp look in his eyes as he looked at Lady Capulet. He did not appear to trust her.

“Their entire family is a sinful bunch who wish nothing else but to harm mine. Do you expect me to talk warmly of them just because they are young? They will only follow in their family’s footsteps, mark my words.” Lady Capulet’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at the boy before her. “Now what have you come here to say?”

 

“My uncle sent for you and your husband. He needs to hear your side of the story of what happened with the death of your brother. The Montagues have already said their piece, and now he wants to hear from you. He’s trying this new method to appear as fair as possible-” The curly-haired boy stopped mid-sentence. He had noticed Tybalt standing there, not hiding, but a bit out of sight. “Who is that? I assumed I’d met every live Capulet, but the numbers are usually decreasing, not increasing.”

The boy was quick-witted, he’d give him that. Lady Capulet had a look on her face as if she wanted to slap the boy for that comment on her family, but that she could not. He must be someone important.

 

 “Tybalt meet Mercutio Escalus. Nephew of Prince Escalus, the leader and keeper of the peace here in Verona.” He couldn’t be doing a very good job, Tybalt thought to himself.

“Mercutio, this is Tybalt Capulet. My nephew, and son of my dear, departed brother. He only came to Verona today for his father’s funeral, but he will be staying with us from now on. In fact, why don’t you join me to tell the Prince our story? Perhaps you have details I do not.” Lady Capulet arched an eyebrow as she asked her question. Damn. He did not have any details to fill in, as he did not know the deceased Capulet at all.

 

“I don’t know if that will be necessary, Madam, as I was not present for his death. I would not know more than you did. I heard word out in Mantua of a Capulet funeral taking place in Verona, and somehow knew it was my father. I had been beginning to grow suspicious, as I had not heard anything from him since he left for Verona.” He shook his head in feigned regret. His own long hair hid his facial expression in the process.

“You’re not going with her? Not even for moral support? Do you have something to hide Tybalt Capulet, if that is even your name?” Mercutio smirked as he sent him a daring glance. Remember how I said children can sense a lie from a mile away? Well, clearly this annoying little squirt had no plans of being as polite as Juliet about it. Tybalt put on his best sad smile.

 

“I will join her at this venture, _child_ , I was only worried I would not be of much help. It is a regret I will carry with me to my grave, that I did not get to say goodbye to my own father.” He gritted his teeth as he spoke. Taking a deep breath, he looked over to Lady Capulet. “Now, shall we accompany this _charming_ guide to the Prince’s home?”

“Yes, Tybalt. I am pleased you can come with me, even if you don’t have much to contribute with. Being supporting to the women in his life is a good quality in a man. One that not every Capulet man possesses,” She turned to look at her husband. “Clearly my brother did something right.”

“Well, with that, welcome to Verona. We have a corrupt justice system, a high casualty rate and beautiful women. You’re sure to find something that will suit you fancy. Now, shall we?” The frustrating child turned to walk away, so Tybalt took Lady Capulet’s arm as they began to follow him. He shook his head, baffled.

 

Mercutio’s mere existence proved to Tybalt exactly what happened with a child that grew up in Verona. Even if he was the Prince’s nephew, he appeared to have the freedom to come and go as he pleased. It might be his age speaking, but he was not used to children talking to adults in such a relaxed manner.

The city of Verona had a weird feeling to it, and he wondered if he would change as well if he stayed here. These mortals were more of the sort he had been looking for. Their lifespans were short compared to his eternal youth, but they did not let that stop them. They appeared to treat every moment like their last. Not holding back, and not pulling any punches. Thinking back to Mercutio’s comment on their high casualty rate; if a child noticed that, then it was no secret. The Verona society was clearly divided down the middle, and he had a feeling this was going to be exciting.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 = If you are more well-versed in medieval fashion history than me, I hope that made at least some sense. I basically just imagined a goth fashionable 14th century gentleman. If you would prefer it, please imagine the stage outfits instead.  
> 2 = I don’t know much about funerals in this period, so I’m using a more modern funeral structure. It was about at this point I cursed myself for writing a fic that takes place in medieval times, as my knowledge is seriously limited.


	3. A Rusted Heart and a Poisoned Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tybalt muses over the the societal structure of Verona until his train of thought is interrupted.

 

Tybalt’s stay in the city state of Verona had grown longer than he had first anticipated. He had stayed put for 5 years, which was unusual in itself. He usually avoided staying too long in one place, but he had grown fond of the chaotic city. The kind of chaos that was abundant in Verona was a playground for immortals. Even eternity grew boring in the long run.

Half a decade was a blink of an eye when all of time was at your feet, but Tybalt attempted to make the best of it. In Verona he had built up a reputation as a skilled swordsman and a respected member of the house of Capulet. He had grown fond of his false family and had begun to feel a true sense of kinship towards them. He was not used to feel this emotion anymore.

After he outlived both his first love and his family, he had avoided proper contact with mortals. He probably still had relatives, descendants of his brothers and sisters. It was not as if he could visit them anyway. He was lucky to never have had any children of his own, so he was never forced to watch them grow old and die in his place. Even if the Capulets were not his blood, they had taken him in. They had treated him with the fierce love and devotion families in Verona clung to. They never knew when someone wanted to exact their revenge, so there was never a delay when it came to emotions. That was what fascinated Tybalt about the city. Every emotion was raw and honest, because they had no time for deception.

 

This was part of the reason why he had become so fascinated with Prince Escalus and his family. In Verona you were either a Capulet or Montague, or you needed to align yourself with a side. Prince Escalus was the only neutral force, and even he was corrupt in his chase for power. He had no intention of soothing the wound of their vendetta, as long as it benefited him. In his aspiration for power he would sacrifice anyone, be they Capulet or Montague, or anyone else. His ruthlessness did not seem to be hereditary. The rest of his kinsmen had an indifference to the need for power, at least how at the current moment. That could change quickly, should the need arise. 

There was Paris, who had been young when Tybalt first arrived. He was an adolescent taught by the best tutors money could buy. He was away, currently, as he was seeking further education outside the city’s walls. He was a bore, who did not seem to care for politics, but he would most likely return in a couple of years to take a bride.

Then there was Valentine, one of the Prince’s nephews. He was a peaceful child, and did not appear to be fond of the volatile atmosphere he had to grow up in. Rather unremarkable, but appeared to be well liked.

 

Lastly, there was Mercutio. Mercutio Escalus was the second of the Prince’s nephews, and undoubtedly the most infamous. While he did not share his uncle’s passion for authority and control, he was not one to shy away from conflict. Even at the young age of sixteen he was already renowned for his wit and swordsmanship. He’d spar with whomever crossed his path, but stayed mostly loyal to the Montagues. It was a shame, as despite his annoying demeanour he would be welcome addition to the Capulet house. 

Tybalt was relaxing in the garden near the Capulet Manor, taking in the warm Verona sun. He had attempted to read, but found it difficult as he felt a headache coming on. He started rubbing his temples when an apple hit him in the back. He sighed audibly, and turned around to see the face he had been anticipating. On the stone wall next to one of the garden’s apple trees sat a very pleased Mercutio, grinning from ear to ear. His dark curls shining in the summer sun, his face freckled in its adolescence.

 

“I was beginning to wonder when you would notice me, I have been told I’m usually quite hard to miss.” Mercutio said, his smile somehow evident in his voice. Tybalt groaned in response. He laid down on the grass and closed his eyes, not wanting to entertain the young terror today.

“Yes, you have a tendency to make your presence known. I am afraid I’m not as wary as I usually am, but that is because I sense no threat from you.” Tybalt decided to find out what the young Escalus wanted. It usually came to that either way, but Tybalt would do so on his own terms.

 

“No threat? Are you inebriated so early in the day or have you lost your mind?” Mercutio stated, trying to hide how insecure he was coming off. “I can match you in battle, you fiend, and I’ll prove it to you!” Tybalt heard a thud as the offended child jumped down from the wall. He heard the sound of Mercutio unsheathing his sword as he walked closer.

“I have no quarrel with you Mercutio, at least not in the current moment. You will not regain any respect by facing me in battle today.” Tybalt still had his eyes closed as he felt Mercutio’s cold blade pressing towards his throat. He opened his eyes to give Mercutio a stern look, much akin to one his own father used to give him when he was young. The look may have looked more tired rather than stern, but it had the desired effect. Mercutio removed his sword from where it had been resting on his throat. “Relax will you? You are not a Montague, no matter how much time you spend with those strays. Nor have you given me a good reason to duel you. Why should I indulge you?”

 

“I should challenge you to a duel for how you talk about my friends, but I suppose it can’t be helped. You are a Capulet after all.” Mercutio mumbled, looking like a dissatisfied child that had his favourite toy taken away. “I came here to find some way to quell my boredom, and you are usually always ready to spar with me, even for a minor offense. What changed today?” Tybalt tugged on the leg of Mercutio’s trousers1, signalling him to lie down beside him. Mercutio did, wearing a distrusting frown on his face.

“Today, I have a headache. That is what changed. I do not have the energy to entertain you, young Della Scala.” Tybalt spoke with the weary voice of an adult lecturing a child. He could not blame Mercutio for being bored, but he could blame him for making it his problem. “Why do you not do whatever adolescents like yourself do when they have too much time on their hands? Read a book, spar with someone, flirt? Whatever you want, as long as it does not involve me getting up in the immediate future.”

It had been such a long time since Tybalt was Mercutio’s age, he had no idea what youths these days got up to.

 

“You sound like my uncle. You’re not even that much older than me, only a few years short of a decade, yet you sound so pedantic.” Tybalt involuntarily snorted at that. “I’ve flirted with- and courted all the interesting girls this city has to offer. The ones who are open to my attentions at least, and it’s too nice a day to spend it inside reading.” Tybalt picked up his book and almost threw it at the boy.

“Read outside then. I still don’t understand why you are complaining to me.” Tybalt threw his arm over his eyes. He had assumed by now that this pestering fiend was not planning on leaving him alone.

“I am complaining to you because you are one of the few interesting people to talk to in this city. The girls my own age are tedious, more concerned with their future marriages than with enjoying the present. My Montague friends are fun, but I need other company than them. Besides that, my only options are my dull kinsmen and begrudging elders. You, however, do not fit into any of the categories. You just showed up one day, and I still can’t seem to understand you.” Mercutio’s monologue would be tedious if the boy had not been perceptive by nature.

Mercutio was a wild card and noticed behavioural patterns others did not. His inability to find a proper category for Tybalt meant he noticed something was off. Tybalt could cloak himself as a Capulet, without them asking many questions. Mercutio was different, and was not easy to fool.

“I don’t believe I’m that difficult to understand. Perhaps you are thinking too much.” Tybalt’s attempt to throw his scent off his trail was futile, but he had to try.

 

“You are a skilled swordsman, not unusual for neither a Capulet or a young man your age. You are also well read, and often seem to be in deep thought, and appear to be rather studious. Not unusual for a member of an important family; but you grew up in Mantua away from the central conflict of the Capulet house. ou are a brute with a brain, and you fit in too well here. It’s as if you were manufactured to live in Verona. That makes you interesting.” Mercutio concluded his statement and looked at Tybalt. He appeared to be looking for approval of his analysis.

“How close attention have you been paying to me, young Escalus? While you may not be wrong, why have you memorised so many details about me? Have you been following me?” Tybalt raised an eyebrow as he looked at the boy to his right. Convincing Mercutio that he was who he claimed to be was going to be difficult, because evidently, he had picked up on something the rest of Verona had not.

 

“My father raised me to be proud of my name, even if we lived separate from the rest of them, which may be why I fit in so well. I have always loved reading. I believe there is more to life than sleeping around and fighting in the streets, although both of those activities can be enjoyable.” He winked at Mercutio, whose ears and cheeks started reddening at the comment. “Perhaps that is something for you to consider as well?”

Mercutio was uncharacteristically quiet for several minutes. Tybalt closed his eyes again. They laid like that, side by side, for a while. Rendering Mercutio speechless was usually quite the feat. Who knew all he needed to do was embarrass the boy?

 

“I was right to take an interest in you, Tybalt. Few people here spend time wondering what else there is to life, aside from the more carnal pleasures life has to offer.” Mercutio mused, looking at the garden around them.

This statement surprised Tybalt. Mercutio’s reputation preceded him, and if anything, he was a great example of a citizen of Verona. If the rumours were true, carnal pleasures was Mercutio's main indulgence; be that in the bedroom or fighting in the streets. No matter his age, his reputation grew like a family of rabbits. What an interesting character the boy was. Tybalt had seen a fierce side to him before, but never this side, whatever it was. It was as if Mercutio was softer in his approach today. Usually a lover of chaos and excitement, today a studious bystander. Perhaps Meructio was less intolerable when he was alone? When he was around those dreadful Montague children he spouted bravado and would never appear vulnerable. Today he seemed softer, as if he had taken down some of his walls. Mortals would never stop surprising him.

 

“Although a word and a blow never quite seem to disappoint. Perhaps the more simple-minded citizens of Verona have understood something we have not.” Meructio grinned as he broke the silence between them. Tybalt groaned in response. There was the quick wit he had been lacking before.

“Please stop talking, or I’ll be forced to shut you up myself.” Tybalt stated. 

 

“Now you’ve piqued my interest, how exactly were you planning to shut me up?” Mercutio sent him a flirtatious gaze and wiggled his eyebrows in a most ridiculous fashion. Tybalt’s eyes landed at the boy's still-red ears. It would appear his confidence was a ruse. Tybalt laughed, moving to get up.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Tybalt smirked as he picked his previously discarded book up. He walked back inside, leaving Mercutio in the garden.

 

"I'm always ready to gain new knowledge!" Mercutio shouted from behind him. Tybalt laughed, shaking his head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 = Look, I've come to terms with the fact that I don't know anything about 14th century male fashion. Is trousers the correct word? Should I have used the term breeches, or is it to early for that? Hose perhaps? Who knows? Not me.
> 
> \---  
> A/N: I've skipped forward a few years, but I'm still writing Juliet and the Montague boys (+ Mercutio) to be rather young, moving the central conflict of Romeo & Juliet forwards by about a year or two. Dealing with age of consent while one of the characters are immortal is dubious at best, so I'm aging the characters up a bit. 
> 
> In this chapter I wished to show a side of Mercutio as somebody with more depth, not just as the fierce and wild character he will come to be, and I hope that translated. I will be exploring the characters over a couple of chapters before everything goes to hell.  
> I'll try to update soon!

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any thoughts or comments feel free to share them with me in the comments. Feel free to point out spelling or grammatical errors, as English is not my mother tongue.


End file.
